The Perfect Drug
by CharonsDeadlyLove
Summary: After The Great Game. John and Sherlock are short on cash, so they have to find a new flatmate. After 3 people running out of the flat, Celia Sager knocks on the door. Rated M for cussing and cases and sexual themes and encounters in later chapters


I don't own Sherlock or John or yeah yeah yeah. You get it.

* * *

" And you have issues with women because you're ex _lover_ beat you... With a wooden spoon? Or was it a ruler?"

And that's when the third person ran out. Jazz was playing from the speakers, the song was coming to an end.

"Sherlock! How are we going to get a flatmate when you keep doing that! You're going to scare off everyone and then we won't be able to pay rent!" John dropped down to sit on the couch scanning over the page of responses for the room.

"How would they be able to live here, if they aren't willing to even face their own history?" Sherlock said from the kitchen as something popped, followed by the tall man cursing under his breath.

* * *

A weepings man ran passed her, pushing her out of the way as he ran out the door. She walked up the steps, her auburn hair shining under the light. She was wearing dark denim boot cut jeans, a black fur coat and a white renaissance corset. Her black wedge heels clicking against the stairs.

As she pushed the door open the sound of cussing, mumbling, and popping attacked her ears. And then music started up from the madness, Do I Move You by Nina Simone.

She knocked, "Hello? I'm here for the room." The blond man sitting on the couch jumped at the sound of her voice, realizing both the song, and the young woman.

"Oh hello, please come in. I'm John Watson, please sit down. Uhm your name?"

The woman stood for a second dumb founded at how worried the man sounded. As she walked in a tall man with dark hair walked in from the kitchen with a up of hot tea,

" You can have this cup, I'll get another one." He walked over and shoved it in the girl's hands. The only sound being the awkwardly sensual song that started when she first entered the room.

"Oh, uh, thank you, can I have three lum-"

"Three lumps of sugar no cream, already in it." John motioned towards the chair facing the couch before saying, "That is Sherlock Holmes, it is best to try to ignore him... What was your name by the way?"

She sat down, laying one leg tightly over the other and setting down the cup of tea on the coaster as she began to unbutton her jacket, " Celia Sager, it's a pleasure to meet you both." She flashed him a smile as Sherlock walked back into the room and sat down on the couch next to John.

John was staring but Sherlock didn't bother to look up until he was done stirring his tea. His eyes settled on black fur falling off milky shoulders exposing a paper white corset hugging the curves of her hips, waist, and breasts. She had a perfect body, hour glass shape, probably 44, 30, 42 measurements.

"...Should I put my coat back on..?" Her voice shook both the men out of their thoughts. Sherlock spoke first,

"No, are your measurements 44,30,42?" She sat shocked at his boldness and before she could answer, John snapped at the man, "Sherlock! You can't just ask a woman that! It's rude and intruding! Are you trying to scare her away!"

That was when she threw her hands up to cover her face.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, I'm sure you can show yourself out." Sherlock said sarcastically as he took another sip.

She pulled her hands back from her face, both John and Sherlock were stunned by what they saw. She was laughing, hysterically. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter then looked up at the men.

"I'm so sorry, that was just so adorable, and pretty much spot on. I'm 42.31,42. Most men just refuse to even look below my neck. Except gays, they love me. And when I say me I mean my breasts." She was still laughing slightly by the end of it, and then she picked up the tea and took her first sip. Licking her lips as she set it back down.

John spoke up, "So, Celia, you're interested in the room we have?"

"Obviously, John." Sherlock's eyes never left her, shifting from her shoulders to her shoes to her lips, all over, examining her.

She smiled and bowed her head a bit, ignoring Sherlock's stare, "Yeah, I just moved to London, and I'm staying in the hotel by Scotland Yard right now."

"Oh, well, tell us about yourself." John said. Sherlock's head finally cocked away from Celia, the tall man now stared knives into the blond's cheek.

Celia looked at the two men for a moment, then continued, " I'm 23 years old, single, photographer, I smoke, but only outside, phobia of frogs, insomnia but I'm very quiet at night, I promise."

"You do not have to worry about being loud," John said, Sherlock interrupted him.

"Violin?"

"No, I don't play, It is my favorite instrument though." Sherlock's lips lifted at the corners, what could be the beginning of a smile.

"Yes, but he means 'How do you feel about the picking of a violin at 3 in the morning.'" John said with a sarcastic tone. Celia smirked as she realized Sherlock's eyes were glued to her form again. "Would be the perfect thing to fall asleep to."

Sherlock couldn't help himself, he knew John thought she'd be the perfect flatmate, but there was still one more test...

"You moved here to get away from an abusive boyfriend, he used to cut you... Your thighs. You are very insecure about you're... breasts, which is why you joke about them. You have father issues, he beat you're mother. You are very insecure in all you do, including your photography, even though it is rather remarkable. You have depression, and a personality disorder, most likely Bipolar."

Her jaw dropped, forcing her lips to part. Her eyes were glued to his, almost looking through them to see the evidence to what he just said, and she understood how he saw. John let his face fall into his hands as he mumbled. She smirked, causing Sherlock to drop his jaw.

"Father did beat my mother, but also molested me til I was three, which is when she found out. And, I have depression, anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder." John picked up his head, his eyes full of pity, he looked to the man sitting next to him. Sherlock's eyes were locked on her, piercing her eyes. He had no pity in his eyes, it was something else.

Holme's lips twitched. "Your clothing is still in the hotel I presume?" John jumped, shocked and confused. Celia just nodded, and then the tall dark haired man pulled out his phone and stood up walking to the the front door. He pushed his phone into his pocket then walked over to Celia, grabbed her jacket from behind her, and held out his hand.

John glared confused at the man, stumbling to find words. But he stood and moved over to Sherlock. Celia took his hand, lightly laying her's in it, and stood elegantly in front of the man. He then proceeded to drop her hand and wrap her coat around her shoulders and then walk to the door, opened it and gestured for the young woman to walk through it.

Her and John just stood there, until Sherlock said, "Well she can't live here in the nude, she'd freeze."


End file.
